


being as in love with you as i am.

by angelica_barnes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, literally that's it it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: a bunch of fluffy moments between bucky and steve because they've always been in love and they always will be.





	being as in love with you as i am.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "Angels" by The xx
> 
> based off :
> 
> Lights Down Low - MAX ft. G-Eazy  
> I Was Made For Loving You - Tori Kelly ft. Ed Sheeran  
> Where's My Love? - SYML  
> Little Talks - Of Monsters And Men

**1\. Before.**

 

 

It’s easier than you’d think it is. So long as the shades are closed and the curtains drawn, they can kiss as sweet as they want and moan as loud as they please. It’s their own home, and covered in sweat and stickiness from the hot July air and other things, they’re able to fall asleep curled in each other’s arms.

Steve wakes up with his nose buried in Bucky’s greasy but soft hair, and he smiles. He kisses his lover’s head and adjusts his arms, wrapping them tighter around Bucky.

Bucky groans as he comes to, his eyes blearily blinking open and a grin slowly spreading across his face. He hums as he looks up at Steve and the blonde man presses their lips together in an intimate kiss.

“Mornin’,” Bucky rasps, and Steve smiles, not even opening his eyes as he kisses his lover again and again, in sweet little pecks, his fingers brushing their way through Bucky’s hair as Steve cradles his head, one arm around the older’s neck.

“Hmm,” Steve murmurs. “Love you.”

Bucky’s lips curl into a smile against Steve’s, and he answers just as quietly.

“Love you too, Stevie. Love you, love you, love you.”

 

 

***

 

Two days. That’s how long Bucky’s been gone, and Steve is going out of his mind. Granted, he’s slept a lot in those past forty-eight hours, so maybe Bucky’s been around but nonetheless, Steve hasn’t seen him or kissed him or told him he loves him in far too long.

So he stays up, of course he does, being the stubborn dumbass he is. And when Bucky comes through the door, he finds Steve lying on the ground, as if having fallen; he rushes towards him and falls to his knees besides his lover, picking him up and pulling him close to his chest. Bucky pats Steve’s cheek incessantly and shakes him gently.

“Steve. Stevie. Baby doll. I swear to god, if you leave me this way…”

Steve’s eyes open, long lashes fluttering as they reveal those beautiful blue-green eyes. Bucky gasps in relief as Steve reaches up and touches Bucky’s face with those artist’s hands of his, spindly fingers, and he leans down and kisses his lover as softly as he can; they’re human. Sometimes they forget to be careful, and the window’s open. Bucky can hear the crickets chirping.

“Stevie, oh my lord,” Bucky whispers, and Steve smiles at him in a daze.

“Just tired, Buck,” Steve answers, voice barely loud enough to be heard. “Haven’t slept well lately. Ya were gone. Missed you.”

Bucky’s eyes well up with tears and he presses Steve’s head against his chest, allowing the younger’s fingers to curl around his coat tightly. He takes a shuddery breath, and Steve closes his eyes.

“Ya ain't leavin’ again, right, Buck?” Steve asks, a murmur. Bucky nods and rocks them back and forth.

“Never, dollface. Now sleep.”

Steve shivers and pushes closer. He breathes in and out, long and slow. Shaky. “Mm-kay. Love you, jerk.” Bucky swallows.

“Love ya too, punk.”

 

 

***

 

There aren’t too many nights that they sleep straight through. Mostly, Steve wakes up coughing, or crying, or sometimes both. Nightmares about his mom, and asthma, and enough sickliness in his thin frame to drag him down fifteen miles but they don’t let that make ‘em fall.

This time, it’s pneumonia. Even between the two of them, they struggle to make ends meet, but they manage. Then again, Steve’s never been so close to dying, so on the verge of falling asleep and never waking up again. Bucky hates himself every time he has to leave, so he can go to work and pay for the medicine Steve needs.

He ends up selling half his things to strangers too, but that’s okay because his punk is at home and safe and as soon as Bucky starts feeding him the thick liquid he got at the pharmacy, Steve’s coughing lessens and his fever brings down its burn substantially.

Bucky doesn’t believe in God, but he thanks whoever the hell’s up there a billion times after that.

“Sorry I’m so weak,” Steve manages to force out, and Bucky shushes him and runs his fingers through Steve’s thin blond strands of hair.

“Shhh, shhh, none of that now,” Bucky whispers. “You’re the strongest person I know, and I love you. Now go back to sleep and heal the rest a the way, ok? For me?”

Steve smiles at that, and Bucky could swear his bloodshot eyes start to sparkle more. He lifts his small-boned arm and touches the side of Bucky’s face. Bucky leans into his touch, and fuck all of this if he’s ashamed; he ain’t.

“Everything’s for you, Buck.”

Bucky’s smile is wet with the tears that have begun to stream down his cheeks, but they’re happy ones. “God, I l ove you, ya punk.”

Steve grins and even laughs, and his lungs don’t punish him for it, for once, and Bucky feels the sunshine poking its way through the clouds.

“I love ya too, jerk,” his Stevie whispers.

 

 

***

 

The third Christmas after Sarah Rogers dies, Steve finally relents to Bucky’s offer to make that fort. They lift the mattresses - “Stevie. Stevie. Breathe with me, doll. Come on, you’re done. No more lifting… Stevie!” - and lean them against each other, creating a roof and walls all in one, and then they pile the bedding beneath it.

They collapse onto the pillows and blankets when they’re done, giggling like schoolgirls over crushes, and they immediately turn to face each other. Bucky stops laughing first, smiling fondly at Steve, and he reaches out and takes Steve’s dainty pale hand in his, squeezing it gently. Steve opens his crinkled-at-the-corners eyes and silences himself, smiling.

“Hi, Buck,” Steve says, soft and loving, and Bucky’s smile stretches into a grin.

“Hey, punk.”

Steve beams. “Jerk.”

Bucky leans forward and kisses him; Steve pushes himself closer and so Bucky sits up and pulls Steve on top of him. Steve straddles Bucky’s hips and wrings his arms around Bucky’s neck, kissing his lover languidly. Bucky’s hands wander up and down Steve’s back, slipping under the hem of the younger’s shirt. Steve laughs into Bucky’s mouth, and then moans low as Bucky bites his lip and pulls gently.

They’re interrupted from taking it any further when a knock sounds at the door. They freeze and pull away from each other, but both of their lips are bitten red and their faces are flushed, their hair mussed and their shirts askew. Their pupils blown.

They don’t dare to breathe.

A shout comes, and it’s their neighbor’s voice - “Just a bit of soup, boys, if you’re home. I’m sorry to bother you!” They wait until the footsteps fade down the hallway before scrambling up and down the entryway.

They thrust open the door and sure enough, there’s a small bowl of soup. They share a grin before taking it back to their fort and locking the door behind them.

They reach for each other’s present at the same time, and then they laugh, and Steve opens his first. His eyes go wide when he sees what it is.

“Bucky…” he whispers, and Bucky smiles. Steve looks up at him.

“Thank you.”

Bucky leans over, demanding a kiss; Steve gives it to him with a gentle hand on the side of his cheek.

They pull away and Steve smiles. “Love you.”

Bucky grins. “Love you too, punk.”

Steve then hands him a package in similar size to the sketchbook in Steve’s hand; Bucky tears the paper and it is a sketchbook. He looks up at Steve, confused - he doesn’t draw, they both know that. Steve just smiles and urges softly, “Open it.”

Bucky does.

It’s filled with drawings. Page after page of the two of them and of Brooklyn and of just Bucky, and Bucky drops the book and tackles Steve, peppering his face with kisses and hoping that Steve can’t tell his eyes are wet. Steve laughs and struggles halfheartedly.

“Bucky!”

 

 

***

 

Usually, like the terribly cliche couple they are, they watch the sunsets together. Sometimes out on the fire escape, when it’s warm enough, and other times from the window, as the frost slowly spreads and makes it impossible to even touch the glass from the inside, let alone see through it.

This time, Bucky looks over at Steve and reaches over the inch of distance between them, taking Steve’s hand. Steve looks up at him through those beautifully long lashes as Bucky lifts their hands and presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s, and Steve blushes that pretty rose pink.

Bucky stretches out an arm and curls it around Steve, pulling him closer, and his lover places his own arm over Bucky’s. Bucky grins something awful that fades into a smile and begins to spin, maneuvering them around the room, with Steve stepping on his toes every once in awhile.

“This ain’t right, Buck,” Steve says, sharp yet soft and sad, a knife piercing the silence and the skin of Bucky’s heart. “This ain’t practical.”

Bucky tilts his head to side, in question, “What ain’t right about it, Stevie? What’re we doing that ain’t practical?”

Steve looks down and mumbles something; Bucky strains to hear him. “Repeat that, doll? Can’t hear you.”

Steve lifts his head again and whispers, “You should be dancing with dames who don’t got two left feet.”

Bucky sighs and leans down, kissing Steve’s slightly-parted lips. Steve lets go of Bucky’s hands and reaches up to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck, as Bucky’s hands transfer to Steve’s waist and pull Steve flush against him.

They pull back less than an inch, and Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I wanna dance with you. Ain’t it my right to want that?”

Steve shakes his head, in despair. “We’re illegal, Buck. No matter how much I love you.”

Bucky sighs and pulls Steve into a hug. Steve buries his face in his lover’s neck and curls his fingers around the fabric of Bucky’s thin sleeping shirt, holding on tight. He inhales a shuddery breath and Bucky closes his eyes.

“Love you, punk.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

The draft letter comes a day later, and this era ends.

 

 

**2\. Then.**

 

 

The first thing Steve does when he releases Bucky from the table is kiss him. History cuts that part out, as well as everything else that comes afterward, other than the few things they can pass off as friendship.

It doesn’t take too long for Peggy to figure them out, however. They’re as careful as can be, making no mistakes, but she’s a perceptive gal, and so one day she catches them off-guard with a simple exchange of questions.

Bucky’s drinking something unidentified and laughing about god knows what with Dum-Dum, and Steve is dancing awkwardly with Peggy on the dance floor, because god forbid he dance with his actual lover, Steve thinks. The dance is wonderful, nonetheless, but it turns sour (or so he thinks it will) when Peggy tilts her head to the side and softly asks, “How long have you loved him?”

Steve almost reels back with the force of surprise overcoming him, but he quickly regains his composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries to deflect, and it wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s called him a fairy, but it is the first time that somebody’s known exactly who he’s a fairy for.

Peggy levels him with a deadpan look. “Barnes. How long have you loved him?”

Steve sighs and decides to tell her the truth, clearly seeing that there’s no other way out of this, “Since I met him.”

She nods, processing the information, and her eyes flick over to Bucky at the bar, who’s smiling at them. Steve turns and smiles back, and Bucky winks. Steve rolls his eyes and blushes, and then focuses back on Peggy, who smirks.

“And how long has he loved you?”

Steve doesn’t even hesitate, looking up as Bucky walks over to them and puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder, smiles at Peggy.

“About the same.”

 

 

***

 

The Commandos don’t let on that they know. At least not until Bucky nearly dies on a mission and Steve screams; he rushes to Bucky’s side and gathers the shaking man in his arms as the fight resumes around them.

Bucky closes his eyes, curls his fingers around the front of Steve’s uniform, and rasps his Captain’s name, “Stevie…” Steve throws his shield without ever looking away from his lover and ends the battle right then and there, whispering, “Yeah?”

The Commandos surround them, in a protective circle, and Bucky shivers and curls himself around Steve. “Love you, punk. Warm.”

Steve holds him tighter, ignoring the knowing glances of the men around them. “I love you too, jerk. Now sleep, okay; we’ll get you back safely.”

Bucky hums, “Mm-kay,” and snuggles himself deeper into Steve’s arms. Soon there are soft snores, and Steve picks him up and begins to lead the walk back. Dugan turns and looks at him.

“We won’t say a word, Captain. Promise.”

Steve smiles weakly but gratefully and from then on, he and Bucky share a sleeping bag and kiss whenever they want to.

It’s nice.

 

 

***

 

And there’s always been something in the way they look at each other. Like there’s no one else who matters, Peggy had said, and they believe her because they always have been transparent.

But it’s never done anything good for them, up until now; those beatings in back alleyways weren’t always started by Steve’s stubborn little ass, but by the big guys who saw them, who saw right through their act.

But  _ now _ , now… they get  _ teased _ . Not made fun of, not beaten, not taunted, but  _ teased _ . The Commandos all have their own comments whenever Steve and Bucky crawl out of their shared tent in the morning; whenever they kiss before going off to their duties; whenever they hold hands or kiss too deeply; whenever. And in turn, they tease themselves; sometimes they lie back in their tent and make obscene noises, just to see how long it takes for the groans of annoyance to start.

It feels good. It feels right.

And so when the battles come, even out of nowhere, they’re always ready and they always win, because you can always do things better when you’re happy, can’t you?

(That’ll change soon.)

 

 

***

 

It’s too cold in the mountains. All the Commandos have taken to sleeping in twos, just to keep warm; Bucky and Steve aren’t complaining. There’s good-morning kisses and good-night cuddles and romantic lunches; well, as romantic as meals can get in the middle of war. The Commandos continue to tease, but nobody minds.

And then, always having a flare for the dramatics, Steve gets down on one knee in the middle of a battle and takes Bucky’s hand, looking up at him with earnest eyes and a crooked smile.

Bucky shakes his head and sighs, but it’s fond.

“My god, what am I going to do with you?”

Steve smiles cheekily. “Make an honest man out of me, I hope,” he answers. “Marry me?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and pulls Steve up off the ground and into a hard kiss, pulling back with a smack of the lips and leaving Steve breathless; “There,” he rasps. “That’s my answer. Now go win this battle for us, ya punk.”

Steve nods, in a daze, and bounds off, throwing his shield left and right, and it’s only afterwards that Bucky allows himself to jump into Steve’s arms and laugh as loud as he pleases, kissing his lover again and again and repeating the word yes over and over and over.

Dugan officiates, Morita walks Bucky down the aisle, and the captain and his sergeant seal their illegal union with a kiss.

Bucky falls a month later, and the world moves on.

Steve doesn’t.

 

 

**3\. Soon.**

 

 

It takes seventy years, but Steve’s finally holding his husband in his arms again. Even after D.C., and those two years of running and chasing, Steve still loves Bucky the same.

He touches his soldier so gently, and Bucky rewards him with a warm kiss. It’s just them in the apartment, for longer than history lets you think, and they spend a half hour touching and kissing and whispering promises to each other before the hundreds of footsteps in heavy boots come shaking their sanctuary. They share a look, a kiss, and then they fight.

Bucky still doesn’t completely remember them, but that’s okay. And they run from the panther, and the police, and still they end up imprisoned but that’s also alright; they’ve always made it out before. This time will be no different.

While Sharon gets their things, Steve runs after his husband, who’s fighting like hell now that his programming has been triggered. And as the helicopter falls, and them with it, Steve feels the overwhelming sense of fear that he always gets whenever he touches water or there’s no ground beneath his feet.

Bucky’s head hits the windshield, hard, and Steve fishes him out and lays his lover down on the dry land. He lies down next to him and kisses Bucky, sweet and soft, and helps the older man sit up as he coughs and sputters. They both collapse back and Bucky turns to look at him, a sad sort of sorry in his eyes. Steve smiles back at him and pulls his husband close as they both catch their breath.

Sam finds them.

He says nothing about Bucky snoring softly against Steve’s chest.

He always suspected them anyway.

 

 

***

 

Sam gets used to seeing the Captain kissing the man who tried to kill him less than three years ago. It’s not that hard, seeing as how they fall into each other so effortlessly, and so he doesn’t comment about the flirty banter between the super soldiers as they’re driving to meet Agent 13 under the bridge.

Steve smiles at her with affection, something left over from his connection to Peggy. Sharon doesn’t seem to mind, as she hands Steve the wings and the shield, and she briefly touches his arm and smiles as Steve says thank you.

“Thank  _ you _ ,” she whispers. “For saving him. Peggy cared about both of you, ya know.”

He smiles and turns back to Bucky, who smiles back from inside the car. Then he nods to Sharon one last time.

“I know. Thanks.”

He walks back to the car and gets in the backseat, which causes Sam to sigh and Bucky to smile. Sam gets up and transfers himself to the driver’s seat as Steve touches Bucky’s face and Bucky turns and nuzzles into Steve’s hand. Steve smiles and Sam, looking in the rearview mirror as he backs up, makes a gagging noise.

“My god, you two are disgusting.”

They ignore him in favor of each other’s lips; Steve begins to pepper kisses down the side of Bucky’s face, trailing up to his ear and down his neck as Bucky whimpers and laughs, moaning at the open-mouthed kisses being placed on the edge of his collarbone.

They only stop when Sam bangs the steering wheel, “Cut it out, lovebirds!”

To which they respond in perfect unison with cheeky grins, “Isn’t that you and Maddy?”

Sam grumbles, but he’s smiling.

 

 

***

 

On the ride to the compound, after escaping from the airport, Bucky whispers something he believes that Steve wishes he could change.

“I’m not sure if I’m worth all this, Steve.”

Steve tells him the truth, that it wasn’t his fault, and still Bucky protests.

“But I did it.”

Steve swallows and puts the plane on autopilot, and then stands up and walks over to his husband. He unbuckles Bucky’s seatbelt and pulls his soldier into his arms, settling them both on the floor.

“You,” Steve whispers, kissing the side of Bucky’s neck as the older man curls his fingers tighter around Steve’s uniform and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“Are worth.” He kisses all of Bucky’s skin he can reach, trailing his lips up Bucky’s neck to the shell of his ear; Bucky whimpers and Steve can feel tears beginning to soak through his uniform.

He pulls away just enough to touch Bucky’s face and turn his husband’s head gently so he’s looking at him, and then he smiles and leans down to capture Bucky’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Bucky wraps his arms tighter around Steve, trying in vain to pull the other closer as they’re already as close as can be.

Steve breaks the kiss but touches their foreheads together, brushing his thumb across Bucky’s cheek in a soothing pattern.

“Everything,” he murmurs. “You are worth everything.”

Bucky smiles through the tears silently streaming down his cheeks, and even though it’s wavering it’s still the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Bucky laughs as if in disbelief and tucks his head into the crook of Steve’s neck again.

“I love you too, punk,” he mumbles against the skin, and Steve tightens his arms around him.

 

 

***

 

The elevator is rickety and old, and stops too many times on the way down; it groans under the weight of the super soldiers inside. Steve appreciates the time, honestly - Bucky is fidgeting; his anxiety showing though he’s not bad at hiding it.

“Is this where they… kept you?” Steve settles for. Bucky nods silently, slowly, and Steve reaches out a hand.

_ Can I touch you? _

Bucky hesitates, and then nods again, lifting his metal arm and threading his fingers through Steve’s.

_ Yeah. _

“Will you still love me?” Bucky whispers suddenly, sounding so incredibly small, and Steve wants to never hear those words from Bucky ever again. “Even after seeing what I’ve done?”

He untangles his hand from Bucky’s in favor of wrapping his arms around him, kissing his husband’s head and combing his fingers though Bucky’s long hair.

“I’ll love you through everything. I promised you that in 1933, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to make me change my mind.”

Bucky’s arms tighten around him and Steve smiles into his lover’s hair.

“I knew you,” Bucky murmurs. “I bet they didn’t tell you that, but I knew you.”

Steve bends down, curling himself around Bucky and burying his face in the crook of his soldier’s neck.

“I know you did. I always knew you did.”

“How?” Bucky squeaks, and Steve grins and kisses his husband’s freckled skin.

“I knew you.”

 

 

**4\. Now.**

 

 

T’Challa is kind enough to grant them shelter and safety. He is a perceptive man, and in the company of others when they arrive, he asks if Steve and Bucky would like to be shown to their rooms. The super soldiers share a look and nod, slowly, and T’Challa smiles back and winks.

As he leads them down the halls, the guards become scarcer and scarcer, and finally, they’re alone. Still walking, but alone.

T’Challa stops them in front of a door. “This is your room. I hope you find it to your liking.”

Steve and Bucky glance at each other once again and Steve opens his mouth to speak when T’Challa holds up a finger.

“I’m well aware you only need one room. You’ll find a single king bed in there, and a kitchen and bathroom. A couch and a television too. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

They stare at him, dumbfounded. A minute passes, and when they give no response still, T’Challa rolls his eyes and gestures towards their hands.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

Steve and Bucky follow, looking down at their fingers, laced together between them. They blush, but smile, and Steve leans over and kisses the side of Bucky’s head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into his lover’s hair, and Bucky even meets T’Challa’s eyes and spares a smile.

He gives them one last gift - in the morning, they find a set of rings on the kitchen counter, engraved with their names. They slip them on, perfect fits - Bucky’s is made specially for his metal arm.

Steve holds out his hand, Bucky takes it, and they dance.

The windows are wide open.

 

 

***

 

The next time T’Challa returns from a mission, Steve and Bucky are sitting on the front steps of the palace. Steve’s drawing, lying across Bucky’s lap; his husband plays with his hair with one hand and holds a book in the other, his nose buried in it.

They look up when the ship starts coming down, the shadow blocking the sun.

Steve sits up and takes Bucky’s hand as a substitute for their closeness before, and Bucky smiles and looks down at his metal fingers intertwined with Steve’s; he’s still not quite used to Steve’s unhesitant willingness to touch it. His unwavering  _ want _ to touch it.

The door of the ship opens and T’Challa emerges, holding the hand of a little girl. She can’t be more than nine years old, and Steve wonders who she is. He turns to Bucky to ask and sees his husband’s face open into something somewhat resembling surprise and relief.

“Maria,” he breathes, and the girl lays her eyes on him and starts running, arms outstretched. Everyone else watches in shock as Bucky stands and goes to meet her halfway, not even stumbling when she launches herself into his arms and buries her face in his neck.

Bucky closes his eyes and rises from the squat he’d lowered to to hug her, lifting her with him, and brushes his flesh fingers through her hair.

“Детка, Maria, кукла,” he rasps, and she tightens her tiny arms around him.

“Bucky. Daddy. Bucky. Папа.”

Steve raises his eyebrows.

Bucky opens his eyes and nudges her; she pulls away and looks up at him, as he asked, and he smiles and brushes his fingers across her cheek.

“I want you to meet someone. Is that okay?”

She looks unsure, slightly afraid, and her fingers curl tighter around Bucky’s shirt. She starts to whimper quietly and he makes hushing noises; “No, no, it’s alright. Not like them, none of them, never one of them. The man who saved me from them.”

Bucky turns and points at Steve, then looks back at Maria, who’s staring at his lover with wide eyes. “Him. My husband, Steve. Is that okay, Детка?”

She nods, slowly, and Steve gets up and walks over, being careful not to make any sudden movements towards the girl. But she reaches out her tiny hand and makes grabbing motions until he lifts his arm and lets her wrap her tiny fingers around his. Bucky smiles softly.

“This is my daughter, Maria. Adopted, of course,” he says quickly, at the look on Steve’s face. “HYDRA brought her in around 1954, when she was nine, because of who her family was. But since she was a child, they couldn’t control her, and I protected her, so none of them could touch her. She was the only thing that could break my programming at time, and so she ended up in cryofreeze. T’Challa must’ve found her.”

They turn to the king and he just shrugs. They understand; it is a conversation for another day.

Steve nods. “Who was her family?” He murmurs, and Bucky turns to him and smiles.

“You.”

Steve looks a mix of something stunned and guilty. Bucky just kisses his cheek.

“Yours and Peggy’s,” he whispers. “Don’t worry, I knew. I also knew your heart belonged to me, no matter who you were with.”

Steve blushes but smiles, and they turn back to the little girl, resting her head on Bucky’s shoulder, having sagged against his chest in exhaustion. Her snores are soft and nearly silent, the same way Bucky sleeps, and Steve realizes that it must’ve been how they had to rest, when with HYDRA.

“Plus, it gave us her.”

 

 

***

 

T’Challa provides a bed for Maria in their apartment. It takes two months for her to actually sleep in it, seeing as she’s unwilling to sleep anywhere but Bucky’s arms and he’s unwilling to let her go. Even after she agrees to try the bed, she only does so when they drag the bed into their room, so she’s never more than a few feet away.

She, like Bucky, is fascinated with the outside world, seeing as she’s never been able to explore it very much. Bucky gladly takes her everywhere in Wakanda he can, and so Steve often finds himself wandering through one of the many markets with his husband and daughter ahead of him, holding hands as Bucky points out different fruits to her and buys her the ones she seems to want. She, also like Bucky, has a difficult time understanding that it’s okay for her to ask for things.

Now Steve’s lying in the grass, in the cool shade of an acacia tree, his husband’s head on his chest. They’re staring up at the sky, pointing out shapes in the clouds, while T’Challa runs around with their daughter. It’s funny to think, that so long ago it was they fell in love, and they thought they’d never have this, but they do.

Steve looks down at Bucky and smiles, fondly, and whispers, “I love you.”

Bucky shifts and looks up at him, a bright grin lacing his lips.

“I love you too.”

They lean in for a kiss, but are shaken from the moment by their daughter screeching; Maria’s happy laughs and squeals as T’Challa tickles her, and they smile and shake their heads, but stand and go to save her.

She sees them coming and leaps into Steve’s arms, shocking him, as she usually grabs Bucky, not him. Bucky watches with an affectionate smile and shares a glance with T’Challa as Maria calms down. Her giggles fade and she closes her eyes, catching her breath as she lies against Steve’s chest.

“Thanks, Papa,” she mumbles, and Steve’s eyes widen, welling up with tears that his husband will obnoxiously point out later; for now, he just smiles as Steve brushes his fingers through Maria’s hair, the other arm holding her securely against him.

“Of course, Ria,” Steve murmurs. “Sweetheart.”

She’s soon off running again, and Bucky siddles up next to his captain and twines their fingers together.

“We have a daughter, Stevie,” he whispers in his lover’s ear, and Steve turns and buries his face in Bucky’s neck, the tears already escaping. He’s shaking, but Bucky doesn’t comment; only holds him close and grins, pressing a kiss to the freckled skin of Steve’s neck.

“I know. I know, baby, me too.”

They’ll leave tomorrow for home, for the compound, and so the bliss for this time is over. But they’ll carry it with them until their dying day.

 

 

 **5\. After**.

 

 

It is only after the final blow is delivered, the battle over, and the ship landed, that they finally all let themselves breathe out in relief. They’ve all managed to survive this particular disaster; Natasha throws herself into Clint’s arms, laughing, and Tony and Bruce take each other’s hand and Tony drops his head on Bruce’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut. Sam and Maddy are probably kissing, but nobody can tell; Maddy’s wings shield them from the world surrounding them. T’Challa is conversing quietly with Sharon in the corner, and Thor is staring quietly out the window; Wanda and Vision are smiling at each other and whispering.

Steve and Bucky, though, are only interested in their baby girl, waiting for them as the ship doors open. She runs towards them, just like in Wakanda all those months ago, and they gather her up in their arms, holding on tight, pressing kisses to her face and such, everywhere they can reach, murmuring sweet names and words against her skin.

“Papa,” she breathes in return. “Daddy.”

Holding her in their arms, life is as it should be.

Completely, perfectly, incandescently happy.


End file.
